


Bitter Sweetness

by Cresstionmark



Category: Call of Cthulhu: Path of Perdition, Internet Remix
Genre: Help, I did this as a joke, I just kinda threw words on the paper, M/M, Other, why did I write this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:48:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25919104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cresstionmark/pseuds/Cresstionmark
Summary: Why are you making sandwiches with an eldritch horror????
Relationships: Sunil Pandey/Lester Goodman
Kudos: 10





	Bitter Sweetness

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this and didn't even proff read it just kinda ran right through I am so sorry

“Honey, can you pass me the jam?”

Sunil Pandey, as usual, could not fathom how he had gotten himself in such a situation. Somehow, through the twists and turns of fate, he was now in an ornate kitchen, making peanut butter and jam sandwiches with an eldritch horror who had just called him “honey.” 

“Yes, dear.”

He scoffed. Under different circumstances, one might call the gesture romantic. That the interaction was a bit sweet. But Sunil, he knew better. Just like the Horror’s current guise of a picture perfect man, Lester Goodman, the entire situation was equally masked to seem like something other than the absolute torture it truly was.

First off, the very act-- Sunil wouldn’t be surprised if Lester Goodman knew about his severe nut allergy, one he had on top of many. Lester knew just about everything, annoyingly, so he wouldn’t be surprised if during his trip with Mr. Pandey he hadn’t picked up on certain...weaknesses. Sunil looked up, and Lester smiled at him, smearing the peanut butter onto white bread. Just the proximity to it made Sunil’s throat close.

Then came the other thing-- the knives. Normally, one would use a butter knife for spreading. In this instance, Lester had reassured over and over again that there were no butter knives in his manner, just the sharpest kitchen knives, blades pointed to perfection. Sunil watched as Lester artfully slathered each slice with alternating PB and J, with a sort of finesse that could only be reached by someone of the beyond. It was almost as though he was showing off. The thought of that made Sunil’s face flush, but he kept his eyes on his own task as they continued onward.

He fumed as he thought of his final grievance-- “honey.” Sunil hated hearing the word drip from the Horror’s lips, wrapped in niceties but containing nothing but the rancid stench of control. “Honey” was sweet and natural. When he heard the word directed at him from Goodman’s mouth, however, he could smell nothing but the stench of old blood and hanging meats, just like the day he first met him. Whoever said you catch more flies with honey had clearly never seen a rotting carcass. That’s what it did. It attracted.

And maybe that was it.

Sunil stood up straight. He’d had a thought. A disgusting one, but a thought.

Maybe he was a fly.

Maybe he wasn’t having fight or flight reactions. Maybe it was more than the fear, and the wafting air of the deadly toxin known as Peanut Butter that was getting to him. Maybe his knees were weak and his palms were sweating because he was nothing but a fly, attracted to the rotting carcass at his side.  
…

No.

It was definitely the peanuts.

He nearly hurled at the table, but that would be unbecoming. No, Lester would get pleasure from that, he was sure of it, and that was the last thing he wanted. What he wanted more than anything was to wipe that smug smile off of his captor’s dumb face. He wanted to see him in pain. He wanted to see his face drop in true, unspeakable horror, just like he’d inflicted on Sunil prior to their “dinner.” He wanted to break him, and that’s when Sunil had his true awakening. It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t love.

It was loathing.

Unadulterated loathing. For his face, his voice, his clothing. He loathed it all. The way he carried himself, upright and perfect, made Sunil’s skin crawl. The way he spoke, at least while he was all together, made Sunil’s head hurt and he had been dealing with uppity academics for his whole life. There was something about this horrible business man that made him want to do nothing but punch him in his face.

Lester smiled.

Sunil smiled back.

Under different circumstances, one might call the gesture romantic. That the interaction was a bit sweet. But Sunil, he knew better. This was war.


End file.
